


Without a Warning

by itsavolcano



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Jemma Simmons Needs a Hug, Leo Fitz Needs a Break, M rating only for chapter 5, No Love Triangle, Season Six Speculation Fic, TW for Grief in Ch 2 and Ch 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-06-18 12:38:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15485937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsavolcano/pseuds/itsavolcano
Summary: When Fitz wakes up in the future, Earth has been saved buthisworld has been knocked off of its axis. For Jemma, their separation has been full of heartache but also joy. Can they find their way back to each other, or is their love lost to time?Beta’d by dilkirani.





	1. Fitz, Present

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @dilkirani for the beta! And for the dealing with all of my plot bunny texts for months before I could bring myself to write this.

_Sometimes I cannot tell the night from the early morning_  
_Sometimes I’m thrown into the fight without a warning_  
_(KS Rhodes; “Our Corner of the Universe”)_  

Cool fingers stroked his forehead and traced over his temple. The instinct to lean into the touch was strong, but he was fixed in place, caught between dreaming and awake. Slowly, steadily, awareness began to trickle back into his body. It wasn’t all at once and gasping, like on television. It wasn’t with eyes open in an empty stare like when he woke from his coma. No, this was more like a chicken left to thaw in the sink for Sunday roast.

“Fitz? Your vitals are strong.”  _Jemma._ “We’re doing our best to bring you out of this and not—not cause any further injury.”

Her touch with soothing, rhythmic. He wanted to open his eyes, wanted to kiss her palm and tell her that nothing could stop their love—not the ocean, not a monolith (or two), not even androids with corrupted code. A love like theirs was stronger than all of that. He wanted to get back to her but he was weighed down.

Focusing, he wiggled the big toe of his left foot.

“Now, where did I leave off?” He heard her pick up something and leaf through its pages. “According to this magazine one of the assistants left behind, an actor I’ve never heard of is dating a reality television star I’ve never heard of. And the seasonal colors are mauve and seafoam, which looks exactly as horrendous as it sounds. Fitz, if you sleep one more day, I might have to find a dictionary just for my own—”

A sliding door hissed open and another presence was in the room. When Jemma dropped the journal to his bed, he felt his right calf muscle twitch.

“Sam is looking for you.” _Daisy._

“He’s probably wanting his tea,” Jemma said with a hint of affection she usually reserved for him. He flexed the fingers on his right hand—all of them, all at once. Maybe he was getting the hang of this.

“What is it with the male species and their inability to keep themselves fed? Does that start at birth?”

“I think that’s a gross generalization.” Fitz could almost hear Jemma roll her eyes. “And I promised I would make his favorite for tonight’s dinner.”

Daisy only hummed and stepped closer.

“How’s he doing?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, which was ridiculous.

“Same as yesterday.” Jemma’s hand was now on his wrist and he willed himself to move—to catch her attention.

“Enoch said he should wake up easier than this.”

“There are countless variables this time around, Daisy.” His cheek twitched and tried to focus—wait, this time around? What did that mean?

“What are you going to tell him when he does wake up?”

“I’ve been too afraid to think that far ahead.”

“You, Jemma Simmons, are facing something unprepared?” Daisy teased.

“Some things you can’t prepare for.”

Jemma’s words seemed to carry a weight Fitz couldn’t understand but after a momentary pause, Daisy tried to lighten the mood.

“I know it isn’t scientifically sound, but have you tried the Disney cure?”

“Oh? And what is this Disney cure?”

“True love’s kiss, obviously.” A shiver of longing trickled down his spine. That was a positive sign.

“Ah. The thought had crossed my mind, yes.”

“But?” Fitz focused on unclenching his jaw—was it considered clenched if he’d been frozen? His mouth tasted stale as he bit at the inside of his cheeks.

“It hardly seems fair, given the circumstances.”

“What sort of circumstances?” Jemma must’ve made a face or a gesture judging by Daisy’s scoff. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I have a fair bit to account for.” Confusion roared through Fitz’s head but he brushed it aside.

“Sure, but he’ll understand. With time. You were friends before anything else.” He could barely give thought to Daisy’s comment or Jemma’s worry, he was focused too hard on waking his body up, on syncing it back up with his mind.

“He’ll say we’re cursed.” Jemma let out a watery sob. “And the worst part is, he has a sizeable data set to back him up.”

“Never—never gonna let me forget that, huh?” The words came surprisingly easy even if his voice sounded like he’d… well, like he’d been frozen in a cryo chamber for an extended period of time.

Next to him, it was Jemma’s turn to freeze in place. But in a matter of seconds she was hovering over him, her hands running over his face, his torso, all the while studying the machines surrounding him. The lighting was dim and his vision was still adjusting, but he found he couldn’t stop looking at her.

“You cut your hair.” He licked at his dry lips and Jemma focused back on him, beautiful honey brown eyes filled with both tears and affection.

“I did do that, yes.” She let out what sounded like a cross between a sob and a laugh as she reached up to brush her thumb along his jaw. Something gold caught his eye and, with reflexes he didn’t realize he had, he reached for her hand. A wide gold wedding band and a matching gold diamond ring sat neatly on her left ring finger.

“How—when—?” His brain struggled to form questions, to put his thoughts in a constructive order. She yanked her hand back.

“Fitz—”

He recoiled slightly when a hint of pain shadowed her face. His vision continued to adjust and he noticed the tired circles under her eyes, the worry lines bracketing her mouth. He then tried to focus on Daisy but she couldn’t seem to look at him. Eyes swimming, he squinted at the room. It was gray and sterile except for a crayon drawing like those he’d seen at Enoch’s place, the ones Robin drew.

The magazine Jemma had read from slid across his trembling legs. With one hand, he shook it until the cover finally fell back into place. There, in clear print at the top, was what he presumed to be the publication date. July 2025. His stomach churned with unchecked nausea.

The last thing he knew, he was in the year 2017, bound for 2091. He hadn’t slept for 74 years. It had barely been seven.

The door behind Daisy opened, catching his attention.

“Mum, I’ve been waiting for you for ages—” A little boy, mop of curly blond hair and upturned nose, stopped in his tracks when he saw Fitz. Suddenly shy, the boy hid against Daisy’s side.

“It’s okay, Samuel,” Jemma reached a hand out to the boy, drawing him closer and onto her knee. He buried his face against her neck before peeking out at Fitz with one eye.

Curly blond hair, honey brown eyes… he was the perfect combination of, of… The colorful picture caught his eye again, but this time it didn’t look like one of Robin’s drawings. There was more detail, more color. A galaxy, a planet, an orbiting spaceship with an arrow pointed to the window, labeling the figure inside with one word: “Da.”

Blood rushed through Fitz’s head. Everything had gone terribly wrong. His mind was flooded with all the implications but he couldn’t make sense of it—it was impossible. The boy shifted on Jemma’s lap, bringing Fitz back to the present. Was this the present?

“Fitz? Please—let me—” She wiped at a tear as it raced down her cheek. Again, the ring set caught his eye. She followed his line of sight, then, curling her hand around their son, she gave him a small, but bright smile. “I have so much to tell you.”


	2. Simmons, Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unbeta'd so I'll probably fiddle around for days after posting, catching typos and rogue commas. 
> 
> Other disclaimers: I'm not a doctor. I have my own timeline theory for s4/s5. This chapter is as heavy as this fic will get.

With such a keen curiosity, Jemma had spent much of her life quantifying the world around her through measurable means. It had helped her during her difficult childhood—oh, her parents loved her, of course, but it wasn’t until she first entered school that she realized she wasn’t quite like the other children. Testing proved she was well above average, but her mother, despite her father’s advocacy, refused to let her leapfrog a few school levels. Only when it came time for her scoliosis surgery, did her mother relent, agreeing to homeschooling.

A retired academic, her father planned her education with gusto, and that was when Jemma first developed an interest in the stars and galaxies. Her father had dug out his star chart from when he was a boy, smiling warmly as he shared it with her. It was one of her favorite childhood memories. She had been so taken by the vast nature of space, by the magnitude of discoveries. With her feet planted firmly on the ground, Jemma had longed to explore it for herself.

Now, nearing her 30th birthday, Jemma had seen enough of the stars, enough of other galaxies to squash such desire. In the two months since they embarked on the mission to find Fitz, space had lost the last of its appeal and was no longer alluring and exciting. How was it possible something so vast could make her feel so claustrophobic?

She pressed the backs of her hands to her flushed cheeks then to her throat before finally resting over the slight, growing slope of her stomach. She dropped her hands away before anyone walked by and noticed—it was still a secret she wasn’t quite willing to yet share with anyone but her husband. Fitz deserved to be the first person she told. Then, with a resolve didn’t quite feel, she slipped her arms into his thick blue cardigan and made her way to the Lighthouse’s upgraded lab.

Jemma knew a trail of pity followed behind her wherever she went. She didn’t care if Mack had given her a sad look when she requested the double bunk, or if Daisy’s gaze skittered away whenever Jemma entered a room dressed in her husband’s clothes and purple half moons of sleeplessness under her eyes. Let them feel uncomfortable by the weight of her grief. She was exhausted from hiding it behind placid smiles and false cheer.

In the beginning, her grief had been manageable. She had a lead. It wasn’t much of one, but it was something: he was in space, heading to the future. Two perfectly measurable, quantifiable units, she’d thought drily as she set to work, surrounded by stacks of books, star chart printouts, and creased science journals. Then, as the days turned into weeks and she found no new threads, Jemma felt herself begin to fray. But she’d refused to break down in front of the others, afraid that they would see her tears as resignation. Instead, she found herself retreating inward, pulling away from the rest of the team. She could see it happening, but couldn’t stop it. She didn’t have the strength.

Everyone else had picked up their lives, carried on, accepted their fates. Mack and Daisy were leading what was left of the team. Coulson was dying, May by his his side.

And there was Fitz, both buried in the ground and floating somewhere in space—his very own little scientific paradox, simultaneously alive and dead.

“A quantum superposition,” Jemma stated for an empty lab, renewed numbness taking over once she remembered there was no one around to answer her or scoff at her use of the term. She responded just the same. “Yes, but you know that already, of course you do. Physics are more your specialty than mine, that’s true but…”

A memory from long ago rolled through her mind. _“We’ll fix this. Together.”_

She could practically see his unruly curls, his blue eyes red with unshed tears as he did his best to stay strong for her, to fight for her. If felt like a lifetime ago.

“Oh, Fitz,” she sobbed, feeling untethered, “I don’t know how.”

Again, her stomach rolled and she did her best to keep herself from getting sick. It wouldn’t do to throw up what meager food she managed to eat. Between the bouts of insomnia, coupled with the midday naps, her body was rebelling. She needed to keep up her strength if she wanted to find Fitz, but it was becoming more and more difficult to keep her condition hidden. If Mack knew, he’d sideline her—or, worse, he’d use it as an excuse to stop the search. Panic rocketed through Jemma at the thought.

No, she needed to step up her approach to find Fitz. It was the only answer. He deserved to know he was going to be a father.

Her pregnancy had surprised her—she’d been certain her body had just stopped properly functioning. The last few months had been filled with a steady stream of trauma—starting with the corrupted, violent framework and ending with—with… Fitz. Jemma had simply assumed she was experiencing secondary amenorrhea.

Perhaps, Jemma thought, some part of her knew all along, recalling the time Fitz had caught her topping off a digestive biscuit with a dollop of smashed peas. She had thought it was a combination of situational stress and dwindling food supplies.

A pregnancy had been the furthest thing from her mind—and the fact she had gone for so long without realizing it left her stunned. That through it all—the LMD take-over, the ten violent days in the framework, her servitude to Kaisus, and the subsequent two weeks trying to stop the end of the world—her body hadn’t rejected the pregnancy was astounding.

“You’re quite the resilient little one, already, aren’t you?” Jemma whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. Her hands shook and she curled her fingers into tight fists until her nails cut into her palms.

The despair of once again going it alone, at having to pull herself together and keep her emotions in check, suddenly became too much. When she had told Fitz she couldn’t wait for their next adventure, couldn’t wait to start a family together, this hadn’t been her intention. He was supposed to be there, gapping at her in horror as she ate something hideous or pulling her against him as she sobbed through silly waves of hormones. She needed him here—wanted to remember what it was like to be held in his arms, to hear his heartbeat under her ear or the rumble of his laugh. It was all too much and the panic began to take over.

She needed him. Now. Nothing else would do. How could she fathom a future without him by her side? And how had she failed to prepare for the possibility? No, Jemma shook her head. It wasn’t a possibility. She could fix this. She might have lost him, but she could also… they could have a second chance. They would find him, they had to. Jemma would accept nothing less.

Her skin felt too hot, too tight, as she fought down the sobs that threatened to spill from her mouth. Then, with a decisive turn on her heel, Jemma made her way to the storage bay at the back of the lab. After Chicago, Mack had convinced the government to release the S.H.I.E.L.D weaponry and other creations they held in storage as evidence. It was a clean slate, according to Mack, but he realized there may be times they needed to reuse old tech or research. Despite his words, Jemma knew it was his way of honoring Fitz, of keeping all of the things his brilliant mind had created—the good and the bad—in one place, should she or the team ever need one of his devices.

But, as she dug out the framework halo prototype, she didn’t think this was quite what Mack had intended. Her shaking hands now grew steady as she took it back to the lab and attached it to Fitz’s recovered hard drive. Before the framework had been corrupted, Fitz had taken her ideas into consideration. _We should build a place to get away. A meadow or a cottage somewhere._ With a few keystrokes, she found what she was looking for, made a few adjustments, and slipped the halo onto her head. Seconds later, she collapsed down into the nearest chair, as the cold sterile lab slipped was replaced with a lush field of heather.

“Jemma.” The sound of his voice was an instant balm to her fraying nerves. She turned and there he was, with love in his eyes, a smile on his lips. She reached for him and he pulled her closer. He was solid under her cheek and she dug her fingers into the thick wool of his jumper.

“You’re trembling.” He gripped her by the shoulders and tugged her back before smoothing his hands down her arms. She could barely stand to look at him, and yet she couldn’t look away. He sandwiched her hands between his and pressed her knuckles to his warm, soft lips. “Why are you trembling?”

“Oh, just missed you is all.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to slip off to the back garden more often if this is the sort of welcome I can expect on my return.” Together, they swayed in the cool breeze, the scruff of his beard scratching against her hair. How was even that something she missed?

“I’d prefer it if you never left my side again, actually.” And because she could, she tipped her head up and kissed the nearest patch of skin she could reach, just below his ear.

“I think I can manage that.” His sincerity broke her heart all over again.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you,” she murmured and he pulled back, giving her a quizzical look. She brushed his question away with a kiss, his mouth warm and welcoming, as he met each stroke and nip. Then, breaking the kiss, she pressed their joined hands to her belly.

“Fitz, there’s something I need to tell you—something I want to tell you.”

His eyes grew round as realization sinks in, a glee dawning over his features before she’d even anything. But still, she needed to say it, wanted to say it. “I’m preg—”

But just before she could finish getting her words out, the meadow fell away, taking Fitz along with it and dumping her back into the harsh reality of the lab.

A furious Daisy stood over her, the halo hovering just above her quaking hand. Jemma couldn’t help the wail that came from her mouth, it was like nothing she had ever heard leave her own body.

“I can’t believe you would do something as reckless as go into the framework, again. Not to mention go in _unsupervised._ ”

“You don’t understand.” Once again, her body trembled.

“I don’t understand?” Daisy raised the halo into the air and with a flex of her fingers, it contorted and snapped into a useless pile of metal. Jemma scrambled for it once it hit the ground. It was a nothing but a paperweight now but it was something Fitz had once created and that alone made it dear. “I think I understand all too well what it’s like to lose someone you love, Simmons.”

Unable to see beyond her own grief, Jemma wanted to shout all the ways in which they were different, starting with the news she’d tried to share with Fitz in the field of heather.

“I’m preg—” Now, back in the real world, the word caught on her lips. If she said it out loud, let other people in on her secret, then it would be real. He was meant to be the person she told first, shared this joy. Jemma wasn’t sure how she could handle becoming a parent without Fitz by her side.

“Yeah,” Daisy murmured, still standing over her. “I know.”

The realization that she hadn’t been as secretive as she’d thought crashed down around Jemma.

“But that’s not why I’m here.” The pity was gone from her voice and Daisy’s tone grew professional, once more. “Mack has something he thinks you’ll want to see. He thinks we’ve found him.”

Hope threatened to bloom in her chest as clamored to her feet and hurried down the corridor. Daisy could barely keep up. The sooner she got to Mack, the sooner she could get to Fitz.

But, of course, her speed didn’t matter. She didn’t know it then, but they wouldn't find Fitz for seven years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Fitz begins to deal with the life he woke up to.


	3. Fitz, Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of timey-whimey hand waving in this chapter. Beta’d by the wonderful @dilkirani!

It had been five days since Fitz woke up to a future he never expected. His recovery had been a bit slow. Jemma assured him they had done their best to ease him back to consciousness, but his body needed more time to adjust. Jemma took to developing a physical therapy regimen. She had flitted around him, her voice cheerful and upbeat. Any other time he would have called her on it. But it reminded him too much of the last time he woke from a coma. During those days, she had barely been able to look at him and now, she had mastered focusing on the spot just past his ear. She brought him tea and sandwiches, offered him fresh reading material, Sam following closely at her heels but sticking close to the door. But mostly, unless it was time for his physical therapy, they stayed away. And as with his previous recovery, Jemma’s absence hurt him more than he wanted to admit.

With a sense of determination, Fitz sat up in bed and dropped his feet to the floor, pressing them flat. Then, after a moment’s pause, he pulled himself up and walked to the door as steadily as possible. Today’s physical therapy included walking laps around the Lighthouse corridors, and Fitz was looking forward to escaping his room for the afternoon. It gave him the perfect opportunity to process his thoughts and to properly explore the SHIELD base. Mostly, it looked the same as it did seven years ago. It was everything else that had changed. He inched down the corridor, digging his fingers into the seams along the walls. 

When he went into the chamber seven years ago, he had zero understanding of the world he would discover. Enoch had told him as much as he was—arguably—permitted, and even then Fitz had no idea if his friends would still be there, if he would ever again see Jemma. But now, to wake up to find that he had gone 91 years into the future, returned to the past, married his best friend only to die a few days later… It was quite a lot to take in. And on top of all of that, he had a son. 

Samuel James Fitz-Simmons, named for Fitz’s maternal grandfather, the man who had given him his first tool kit and laughed when he had taken apart the toaster oven only to put it back together in under two hours. A son conceived seven months before Fitz had set out on his frozen path to the future. Born six months after he had died while saving Earth from massive destruction. Fitz had a PhD in physics and it still made his head hurt, left his mind whirling with all of the implications and possibilities.

Jemma had told him as much as she could, as much as she thought he could handle, although it was clear from the way the others were avoiding him that she hadn’t exactly told him everything. Her smiles were weary and brittle when he asked about the team, about Coulson or Daisy. Fitz had wanted to touch her, to pull her close and soothe away all of her pain, but her flinch when he reached for her had told him all he needed to know. She wasn’t ready. Or maybe she was no longer his. Maybe she had fetched him from the infinite abyss out of some strange obligation to him, or to Sam.

He wasn’t certain the boy needed him much, either, but Fitz definitely needed his son. How was it possible to already love that little boy so much? During their first meeting, he had only been able to stare, his mind swirling with everything he had missed. Sam had curled against his mother’s neck, watching him with wide, cautious eyes. It was uncanny to see one’s self reflected back and once the initial shock had dulled, Fitz had felt an instantaneous warmth take root in his chest. 

Fitz braced himself against the nearest wall, frustrated with the sudden wave of exhaustion from his brief walk. According to Enoch, his slow recovery progress this time (apparently he had rescued a captive Jemma and Daisy a day after waking in the future) was due to decreasing the pre-programmed cycle. Fitz was a little annoyed his other self had bounced back so quickly. But friends had been in peril at the time and it wasn’t the same situation. He, Fitz thought with a pang of envy, wasn’t the same man. He hadn’t strutted onto an alien ship and proposed to his Jemma. He hadn’t upgraded the Zephyr for space or met his grandson. Then again, he thought darkly, he hadn’t been crushed under a falling building, either.

A sharp giggle caught his attention and he turned to find Daisy and Sam bent over a tablet on the floor of the rec room. Brightly colored legos were in piles all around them. Sam tipped his head back in laughter as Daisy smiled and whispered something in his ear. An invisible thread of longing and nostalgia tugged inside of him. He wondered if he would ever make his son laugh like that—or make Daisy grin, for that matter. Someday, they would have to tell him why Daisy flinched when he got too near. Although he wasn’t certain he wanted to know the reason. He was a man out of time and it showed. They’re better off without you. He gave his head a shake, pressing the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb. 

Next to him, someone cleared their throat, breaking him out of his dark thoughts. Startled, Fitz turned to find Mack shuffling next to him. He also struggled to look Fitz in the eye and again, he wondered if it would have been better for everyone if they’d just left him floating in space, unaware and on his way to a future dystopia that no longer existed. 

“It’s good to see you up.” Mack gave a friendly nod of his head before pressing his mouth into a thin line.

“Needed a change of scenery.” The tension grew awkward and palpable, but Fitz hadn’t a clue what to say—he didn’t know how to apologize for another man’s sins, and until they gave him more details, he didn’t know where to start. 

“I get that.” Again, there was a pause and Fitz struggled to fill it. 

“Is he—how is he?” Fitz tucked his chin over towards the little boy now using the Legos to build something tall while peering at the specs Daisy had pulled up on the tablet with a level of concentration he’d seen on Jemma countless times. Fitz couldn’t look away. 

“Sam? He’s a great kid. We don’t see him much of course, but when Jemma calls in, he’s usually right there with her. His current obsession, as you can see, is building things. Must be genetic.” 

He chuckled in agreement but then he frowned. That wasn’t the life he imagined they lived. “What do you mean—don’t they—Aren’t they on the base? Don’t they live here, I mean?”

“Nah, there was…” Mack sighed and again shuffled on his feet. “Jemma teaches at the Academy, now. As to why, I’ll leave that for her to tell.” 

Frustration burned through him. It was his brain trauma recovery all over again, with people he considered his friends handling him with kid gloves. He wanted straight answers but did his best to control his temper.

“Must’ve been awful, whatever the other me did that made her leave.” Instead of thinking about it, Fitz dug his nails deeper into the wall, the pain sharp and biting. “What about you? Why can you barely stand to look at me?” 

Startled, Mack turned to him, the tautness in his body disappeared.

“It’s nothing you did, or he did. Not really, not now.” Then, dropping his arms from his chest, he clapped Fitz on the shoulder. “We had a falling out, over what exactly, I can’t remember. We were working around the clock to save Coulson, the world, or both. I missed some signs I shouldn’t have missed. Said some things, made him think things that weren’t true. I’m mostly upset I didn’t get the chance to talk it out with him. I tried to be there for him in the end, but it—it was rough. Seeing you again just brought it all back up.” 

That wasn’t exactly an answer. All it did was leave him with more questions, but Fitz nodded. He wasn’t the only one who needed time. Turning his head, he focused back on Sam. The little boy’s eyes darted to the side, as if suddenly aware of Fitz’s presence near the door. Daisy followed his gaze and, much to Fitz’s surprise, gave him a tentative smile. Then, leaning back down, she whispered something in Sam’s ear. After a moment, he glanced back over at Fitz, obviously taking stock of the situation, appraising all possible outcomes. He was definitely his son, approaching new situations with caution and little bit of anxiety. And then, in the next moment, Fitz saw Jemma in him, as he scrambled to his feet and rushed to him. The little boy slipped his hand into his, and Fitz felt a calmness he hadn’t experienced in years. 

“I have something to show you.” Sam gently tugged him over to his nest of Legos and Daisy stood to go as Fitz gracelessly dropped to the floor.

“You can stay,” he whispered. “I can—” He didn’t know what he was about to offer. He wanted to embrace this moment with his son, but he also didn’t want to make Daisy uncomfortable. She quickly made the decision for him with a shake of her head. 

“I’ve got to go check in with the director over there.” She hooked a thumb in Mack’s direction. “And you boys are much better equipped with building things. He only likes to play with me because I can do this—” Daisy stretched out her hand and made four blocks vibrate up in the air, then with one quick flick of her wrist, she stacked them all together before letting them fall to the cement floor with a plastic crack.

Giving Sam what Fitz took to be an encouraging pat, Daisy followed Mack to a nearby table to discuss some new mission, her tablet in hand. Fitz didn’t try to eavesdrop; he had someone much more important to focus on. 

His son leaned back over his pile of Legos, incorporating the few Daisy had stacked. Fitz knew he was supposed to build with the toy blocks, offer construction advice or do… anything, but all possible comments dried on his lips. He was mesmerized by the being that was half him, half Jemma, and entirely his own person. Those long lashes fanning his cheeks as he looked down at his construction work? Fitz. That crinkle where the top of his nose met his eyebrow as he concentrated? All Jemma. But then the boy looked up at him, holding out a rather elaborate tower, and gave Fitz a warm smile that was all his own. Fitz’s stomach clenched. 

“Excellent job.” He turned the blocks over in his hands and Sam leaned against his leg as he stuck a few more pieces together. He slouched even closer when Fitz cautiously wrapped an arm around the boy’s small shoulders. Soon, he tucked his head against Fitz’s leg and softly fell asleep. Fitz brushed Sam’s curls back from his forehead. The absolute trust his son had in him after only just meeting made his heart ache. He would do whatever it took to keep that trust. He would be a better father than his own.

Before he could begin to worry about his still shaky leg going numb under Sam’s weight, a framed photograph next to the plastic Lego storage container caught his eye. Within waking Sam, Fitz tugged the frame closer. He swallowed a gasp, surprised to see it contained a photo of he and Jemma taken when they first went into the field. God, they looked so young. Jemma was smiling so wide, excitement shining in her eyes. He even looked happy in this picture.

“He takes that everywhere.” Fitz turned his head to look up at Jemma. She stood above him, her arms folded over her chest. “I kept it next to his crib when he was first born, and then on his nightstand as he got older. Most kids want nursery rhymes and fairytales. Our son wanted to hear stories about his dad.”

Jemma slid down next to him on the floor. 

“What exactly did you tell him?” He felt silly for asking, but he wanted to know. And he wanted a reason to keep Jemma next to him.

“Oh, the usual fair. About how his dad hates icky things and can recite facts about primates.” She knocked her shoulder against his and he chuckled. “That he can create beautiful, life-saving things with his brilliant mind and that he can always sees the good in people with his big heart.” 

Fitz wasn’t so sure about that, but he knew it was unwise to contradict her.

“I know you probably think it’s impossible,” Jemma shifted to look at him more fully, “that you’ve only just met, but Sam loves you so much, already.” 

“I don’t think it’s impossible. It’s been five days and I would do anything it took to protect him.” Fitz turned to watch his son’s chest rise and fall in his sleep. 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” she murmured. 

He wanted to ask if she felt the same as their son, if she still loved him after all of this time. The words wouldn’t come, he was too afraid of the answer. But time when Fitz reached for her hand, she didn’t flinch.


	4. Simmons, Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta’d by dilkirani. <3

Jemma was exhausted. She had spent the better part of twelve hours bent over stacks of books that were far too outdated for her purposes, finding absolutely nothing new from quantum physics to space radiation. Now, swiping through the largest database of journal articles she could find, her eyes were beginning to burn. She closed her eyes, pressing her palms into her eye sockets until the burning stopped and she could see starbursts behind her lids. She wasn’t the only person searching for Fitz, she understood that. But there were moments when she felt so alone in both her grief and in her quest.

But Hunter was out there, chasing down their latest lead and with any luck he would return with good news. It had been three weeks since he’d left, a determined fire in his eye. They had lost contact with him somewhere in the second week, but Jemma was confident he was still out there, searching. If nothing else, Hunter’s single-mindedness gave her comfort when everyone else glanced at her with pity. As long as he didn’t give up, Jemma had hope. She didn’t want to think of what that life might look like, had done her best to push any such ideas from her mind. Even at her lowest, when Mack had offered her any assignment of her choosing, she had refused, buoyed by Hunter’s confidence. 

With a heavy sigh, she dropped her arms to the bench. Finding Sam’s discarded plastic Iron Man lunch tray, she nibbled on a bit of crust from a peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich he had refused to finish. He hated crusts on his sandwiches, which she knew but had forgotten to inform Daisy. She was so thankful for her friends, thankful that Daisy, Mack, and the others had stepped in to offer their help whenever she clearly needed it. 

Casting a glance over her shoulder, she looked at her son, curled up in an overstuffed chair with a brightly colored blanket tucked around his little body. 

It wasn’t lab-standard — neither the chair, the sleeping Sam, or the peanut butter and jelly — but Mack had insisted since she kept such long hours. Rather than give up her time in the lab, she had relented. She was able to keep Sam nearby while still. She found maintaining strict rules more and more difficult in the subsequent years after Sam’s birth. heading up the search for Fitz. In recent months, their leads had turned thin, and the team had to shift focus to other more immediate dangers. As it turned out, Jemma thought grimly, the universe never stopped careening towards imminent destruction. 

She had sacrificed so much, and for nothing. Well, not quite for nothing. She turned back to a peaceful, sleeping Sam as she crunched on the Twiglets he’d left on his tray. He hated Twiglets more than he hated crust on his sandwiches. Fitz would be so sad if he knew. But, of course, Sam did love chocolate in all possible forms, and his favorite food was a mozzarella toastie with basil and tomato spread. It was as refined as his little toddler palate got.

Samuel James, born two weeks early, in mid-January, was a sweet boy. Playful, funny, and at times a bit reserved. But he was simultaneously a chatterbox, full of facts he gleaned from his favorite books, and ready to tell anyone who would listen. He loved games and building things with blocks. But then there were days when he simply observed, his wide brown eyes following Jemma wherever she went, keeping a close watch. 

In those moments, she saw so much of Fitz in him it often made her heart hurt just a little. Most of the time it was a good sort of pain, but every once in a while she would let the sadness take over. She wished he could watch their son grow, that he could sweep him up in his arms and toss him into the air and elicit squeals of laughter. Fitz would know exactly how to coax their apprehensive little boy out of his shell. He would make such a wonderful father. She had known that to be true since the early days of their friendship. 

Ever the same, Jemma did her best to offer Sam a safe place to fall. She had a fair bit of experience when it came to moody Fitz boys, and he was so easy to love, her son. Jemma reached down and brushed her fingertips through his soft blond curls, damp with sleepy sweat. Cheeks red and blotchy, his little face scrunched up. Then cracking one eye open, he reached for her, and she scooped him up. He snuggled down against her neck, instantly. 

“What is it, my little love?” She whispered at his ear. “A bad dream?” 

He shook his head no but squeezed her tighter. Jemma took a moment to shift his weight across her body and then sat in the chair. It was made of soft leather, and rather cozy. She leaned back but something sharp bit into her hip. With a wince, she yanked it from the cushion. It was the only remaining photo of their life before — before the end, before the heartache, and the joy…  They both looked so young, it was jarring. Fitz was smiling, dressed in a plaid shirt, his head covered in thick curls. And she looked so excited and hopeful, ready to set out for whatever adventure they would find.  _ You stupid girl, you had all the adventure you needed right there next to you.  _ He had been so willing to follow her into the field, and oh how they both suffered for it.

“Tell me a story.” 

Startled, Jemma looked down at Sam. She had thought he’d drifted back to sleep. 

“What kind of a story?”

“A happy one.” He snuffled. “Please.” 

“Once upon a time…” 

“No.” Sam shifted, his little elbow pinching into her ribs. “The one about my dad.”

“Which one?”

“How he saved you.” He snuggled closer.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve told you that story, actually.” Jemma pulled the blanket around them both and let her tired limbs sink further into the chair. “And we saved each other, right from the moment we met. You see, we had both just turned sixteen when we met at school. He was the smartest, most handsome boy I’d ever seen…” 

 

Jemma awoke with a start, disorientated and a bit stiff from dozing off in the chair. Still asleep in her arms, Sam barely moved. Focusing her eyes on Mack, she realized he had been calling her name.

“Didn’t you hear the intercom?” He watched as she carefully shuffled to her feet, not wanting to disturb her son. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he reached out and took Sam from her. Sam nuzzled down against his shoulder, unaffected by the change. Her brain was still foggy. She truly needed to catch up on her sleep, properly. It would do little good if she were run down, if she got sick. But it would take more than a restful night of sleep to cure this exhaustion, so she didn’t even bother to try. Bleary eyed, she did her best to follow Mack. 

“Has something happened? Have Daisy and Yoyo returned from their mission?”

“No, that’s not it, Simmons.” He continued down the corridor leading into the comms bay. “Listen, I didn’t want to come to you with this unless we were certain, but if being the director has taught me anything, it’s that certainty is impossible. Although, if I’m being honest, I knew that a long time ago.” 

Then, turning the corner, he stepped aside and let her slip past. She moved into the room, numb and confused. In front of her, Piper and Davis were watching as a small dot blinked across the radar system. The nearest monitor showed it as a sizeable spaceship, one that looked incredibly familiar. It was the same ship Fitz had used to reach Kaisus’s location, it had to be. Jemma had only managed a brief look at it back then, but from what she could remember, the similarities were uncanny. 

Finally, Jemma found her voice as the hope bubbled up inside of her. Could it be? Could this be it? 

“What’s going on?”

“We’re pretty sure that’s Hunter.” Davis poked at the blinking green dot.

“Hunter?” Jemma’s brow creased in confusion but Piper only shrugged. 

“The path matches his previous coordinates. And,” Davis zoomed in on the monitor, pointing at two faint shadows at the ship’s helm. “From what we can tell there are two people on board.” 

Emotions she couldn’t quantify thrummed through her, from her head to her toes. She licked her lips. “How far out is the ship?”

“Traveling at that speed? About eight minutes.” 

Jemma’s stomach dropped. Eight minutes. Everything hinged on the next eight minutes. She had waited for almost four years, she could wait another eight minutes. 

“But here’s where it gets a bit hinky…” Piper flopped down into a chair and spun over to the infrared monitor. “According to this handy dandy device, there’s only one person on board.” 

Jemma frowned as she considered the possibilities. 

“Well, Fitz has been frozen for quite some time.” She ignored all reasonable thought, pushed aside the rational explanations. 

“Davis,” Mack spoke soft enough that Sam remained asleep, but everyone in the room understood his tone. He didn’t want to dash Jemma’s hope once more. “Are you certain that’s even Hunter on that ship?” 

From the moment he had told Jemma of Fitz’s fate all of those years ago, and then watched her face crumple in disappointment at every failed rescue attempt and dead end, Mack had done his best to shelter her from further heartbreak, when possible. He had even offered her a directorial position at the Academy, but she’d refused. She appreciated his consideration, but, until Fitz was found, Jemma was needed on the base. After that, she would take her family far, far away from the so-called adventures she had sought as a young girl. A cup of tea in the back garden, curled up next to her husband as their son played was the type of adventure she wanted, now.

“Lighthouse, this is… Motley Crew,” Hunter’s voice boomed over the comms before Davis could answer Mack’s concern. “Permission to board.” 

“Granted.” Then the comms went dead. 

Jemma’s eyes were locked on the screen, watching as it moved closer and closer. The scratch of metal meeting metal was so loud and even the sturdy Lighthouse rocked a bit as the small ship made contact. Without a moment’s hesitation, Jemma turned and bolted to docking bay. 

Behind her, Mack shouted before handing Sam off to a disgruntled Piper. Then, soon, he was following behind. 

By the time Jemma reached the bay, a bedraggled and bruised Hunter was dragging himself from the innards of the ship. He had a long gash at his hairline that needed washed and stitched, and his leather jacket had a fair amount of tears. 

“Where is he?” Hunter had barely stepped on solid ground before Jemma spoke, her words frantic, her heart racing. “That’s his ship. The ship he had in the future. Where’s Fitz?”

“Simmons.” Now that he was closer, Jemma could see the purple half moons under his eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. But more than that, Jemma noticed the hint of sadness. 

And like the flame of a candle meeting a cold gust of air, Jemma felt her confidence snuff out.

“That’s his ship,” she murmured. She hadn’t realized she was crying until the tears rolled from her cheeks. In front of her, Hunter sighed and she could feel every bit of his weariness.

“There was a scuffle. A band of marauders, if you can believe the irony, boarded the ship,” Hunter winced and clutched his side. “By the time I got there, they had taken everything that wasn’t bolted down, everything of value.”

Jemma felt faint.  _ They had taken everything of value.  _

“Hunter,” she whispered, “where’s Fitz?” 

She knew the answer but wanted to hear it. She needed to hear it. This was it; this was how it ended. She couldn’t go on like this. Sam deserved a life above ground, in the sun. She couldn’t keep looking for her husband, but it still hurt. She tipped her chin up, doing her best to channel the stoicism Americans always expected of her countrymen. 

As if he could see her resolution slide into place, Hunter gave a brisk nod of understanding. And then, with a snap of his fingers, he called over his shoulder.

“That’s your cue, mate.” His usual humor was absent from his voice. Behind Hunter, a familiar face exited the ship, also clutching its side, exposing various wires and components. 

“What was the question?” The Chronicom straightened, his expression dour.  

“Where,” Jemma paused, her hands curled into fists at her sides, “is Fitz?” She didn’t know this person speaking, where had she come from? Where had she found this strength she didn’t feel?

Enoch took a step forward, cocked his head to the side, and then said a single word that nearly brought Jemma to her knees. 

“Unknown.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter has kissing.


	5. Fitz, Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets a little... smutty at the end. Oops. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Thank you to @dilkirani for the beta and for the cheering!!

“According to my calculations, you should be fully recovered from your cryosleep.” Enoch disconnected the high-powered stethoscope and stepped back.

“Yeah, sure, fine,” Fitz grumbled, distracted as he rolled down his sleeve and buttoned the cuff.

Jemma had sent him to Enoch for a final battery of tests that morning. According to her note, she needed to prepare another week’s worth of lectures for her assistant to teach while she was out. Fitz was nearly certain she had at least a month of lectures already queued up on a hard drive at the Academy; he found it highly unlikely Jemma Simmons had changed so drastically in their time apart. Instead, he saw it for what it was—an avoidance tactic.

He had spent the last five days trying to find time to speak to Jemma, but she kept finding excuses. First it was his recovery, then it was bonding time with Sam, and now it was lecture planning. Bitterness coiled in his gut. Everything could have been so different, they could have found their way back to each other years ago if only…

“I still don’t understand how you let those space pirates—”

“Marauders.”

“—take that pod, and with me still in it. Frozen.”

“Lance Hunter referred you to as a ‘Fitzicle.’” If he didn’t know better, Fitz would’ve thought Enoch was amused. He shot the Chronicom a glare and it frowned as best it could. “I tried to stop them.”

“Could’ve tried harder.”

Fitz knew he was being petulant, but he had missed so much, and being at odds with Jemma always left him varying degrees of grumpy. Was it considered ‘at odds’ if he’d spent seven years frozen in space while his counterpart left her a widow, raising their son on her own? If only he could just find a moment to talk to her, to discuss their future… A bolt of panic replaced the bitterness in his gut. Did she want a future? Maybe she had moved on, found someone else, and was struggling to tell him. Could that be the real reason she had sent him to Enoch for his final tests? Was she going to tell him the truth the moment Enoch reported back with his clean bill of health? Suddenly, he felt sick, clammy, but before he could ask to run the tests again, the atmosphere shifted in the room.

“Incoming in five, four, three—” Enoch focused on the nearby wall, its eyes seemingly tracking movement through the metal. Then, somewhat startled, Fitz heard it—little feet pounding on the base’s cement floor. The Chronicom gingerly opened the door. “—Two, one.”

The blond haired boy was a blur as he catapulted across the room and Fitz quickly stretched out his arms to catch him. His sour mood lifted as his son giggled. No matter what happened between them, Jemma would never keep him from Sam, that much he knew to be true. Just as she knew Fitz would never leave him.

“Samuel James Fitz-Simmons.” Enoch tilted its head in an odd bow as if cataloguing the scene, making Sam laugh harder.

“He always does that.” The boy shrugged as Fitz set him down. “I think he’s hilarious. I wanted a pet dog, but Mum said we already have Enoch.”

“Sounds like your mother.” Fitz gave his son’s little hand a playful shake. “But Enoch is more like a cat than a dog.”

The Chronicom’s mouth dropped open as if to protest, but then quickly closed. Fitz swallowed a laugh and turned his attention back to Sam.

“I thought you had your computer workshop until this afternoon?”

“Aunt Daisy had to go out in the field, so we’re done for the day.” While Sam was away from his normal class routine, he had joined up with a few other agents for a computer hacking refresher workshop with Daisy. At first, Fitz had been wary of his six-year-old learning how to hack a mainframe, but Daisy had only snorted and informed him Sam could, in fact, teach the class.

“Does your mum know you’re out of class?” The boy shrugged, leaning out of Fitz’s reach as he tried to ruffle his hair.

“She wasn’t in the lab.”

Fitz bit at his cheek. If Jemma wasn’t in the lab, then she had probably finished preparing her lectures. If she hadn’t been making up an excuse to avoid him. And if she wasn’t in the lab, odds were good she was in her bunk.

Quickly forming a plan, he sent Sam off with Enoch for an afternoon snack and an hour or two of MarioKart. He made it to Jemma’s bunk in under one minute and after a brief pep talk, knocked a familiar beat on the doorframe. Seconds later, Jemma wrenched open the door, her soft smile growing guarded when she saw it was him.

“Oh! I was just heading out.” She looked past his ear, down the empty corridor. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she struggled to formulate a new reason to run from him. “Sam is getting out of his workshop soon.”

Fitz shifted on his feet, subtly blocking her escape.

“He’s having a snack with Enoch. Daisy had to leave and so class ended early.”

Her brow creased and Fitz stifled a smile. Even stymied, she was beautiful; he would never grow tired of just simply being near her.

“A snack at this time of day? He’ll ruin his appetite before dinner.” She moved to slip past him, but Fitz reached for her, his fingers brushing over her wrist.

“Jemma.” He dropped his hand when she looked up, her eyes wide and her chin trembling. “You can’t keep this up. Neither of us can. We need to talk.”

She looked to the floor and nodded once, twice. Fitz watched as a single tear rolled down her cheek and then she stepped back to let him into her bunk. He closed the door and she moved across the room, putting distance between them. She was curling in on herself, arms folded over her chest. The quiet stretched on so long that Fitz could almost hear the second hand on her bedside clock. After another moment, Jemma tipped her chin up. He recognized that move—she was steeling herself for an imaginary battle.

“You wanted to talk,” she inched further away, “so talk.”

During his walk over, he had thought of a dozen things to say and a dozen questions to ask. But now, seeing Jemma taut with anxiety, his heart nearly cracked in two. He would do whatever she asked of him, if only she would ask.

“If there’s somebody else just tell me, Jemma.” Startled, she dropped her shoulders down from her ears and finally looked at him. He inched closer, determined. “I like to think I’d be the bigger man and step aside, but actually, after everything we’ve been through, I can’t guarantee I won’t fight for you.”

“There’s no one else.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she watched him.

“Do you not love me anymore?” The words caught in his throat and he had to force them out.

“No, I’ll love you until I—” She stopped and swallowed before finishing her sentence.

“Then Jemma, what is it? Why are you running from me?”

“Because I don’t understand how can it be that you would still love me.” The words came out in a rush, all on one breath. She let out a sob before pressing her fingers to her mouth. He knitted his brow in confusion but she continued.

“I gave up on you. I left. Again. You needed me and I left you.” Tears pooled in her eyes but didn’t fall. “When I went to Hydra, it was awful, but you had the team. This time it’s so much worse. You had no one to keep you safe. And I knew that, and I still left.”

He reached for her, his hands cupping her elbows as she grasped at her neck.

“Our son needed you more. I’ve heard the bits and pieces, Jemma. From Daisy, Mack, and the others. They haven’t told me much, of course, but I can fill in the blanks. I have firsthand knowledge of what it’s like when the person you love, the one you can’t imagine living without, is suddenly just gone.”

“That’s not the same. You didn’t lose hope.” Jemma gasped, surprised by her own bluntness. Fitz could only shrug, a small, sad smile ticking up the corner of his mouth.

“Sure I did.” She was still holding her body so tight and he tried to offer a bit of comfort, rubbing his thumbs in figure eights over her skin. “You’re right though, it wasn’t the same. You had to deal with the reality of my death, and I’m sorry about that.”

“Why are you apologizing? You did nothing wrong.”

“I broke our rule.”

“You heard about that?” She let out another watery sob, but this time it held a bit of amusement.

“Hmm.” He pulled her closer, and she tucked her head against the crook of his shoulder. “And I’d like to reinstate it. It’s a good rule, in general.”

“It’s an impossible rule.” Her tears were dampening his shirt.

“Look at where we’re standing. We beat the impossible all the time.” He leaned back to look at her. “You need to forgive yourself.”

Her eyes were glassy. “For what?”

“For everything you have spent the last seven years holding on to. You survived a terrible period, Jemma. You raised our son, you carried on as best as you could, building a life for him where he is so loved and so happy.” He pressed his lips to her forehead before peppering the rest of her face with soft kisses. “And you found a way to survive. What more could I have asked for?”

She let out another soft sob, but this time, Fitz felt her relax fully in his embrace, in absolution. She angled her head, giving him better access to her neck as he trailed his lips over her skin. He sucked at a particularly sensitive spot just below her pulse point and she whimpered, her hands scrambling over his back, tugging his shirt free of his trousers.

“Fitz,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. Slipping her cool fingers around his waist to rest against his stomach, she paused until he met her eye. “I’m tired of just surviving.”

A bolt of desire cracked between them. He knew they had so much more to work through and discuss, but at the moment, all of the blood had rushed from his head leaving him struggling to focus on anything other than her ripe, red lips, or the dark lust in her honey brown eyes.

He reached for the hem of her top but she stopped him, apprehension creeping around the edges of her expression and so he waited.

“It’s been seven years.” She winced. “And I’ve had a child since—”

“Jemma.”

“I have stretch marks now.”

“I look forward to running my tongue over each and everyone one of them.” She blushed at his words but he meant them.

“My body is different than the last time you saw me, and I just…”

“You don’t look a day over thirty and you know that’s a fact.” Without another word, he tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it behind him. She was wearing just a plain gray cotton bra, but he had never seen anything more beautiful. He gently ran a finger just below one of the cups, reveling in the soft, smooth skin there. Jemma stilled for a moment before reaching back to unhook the clasp and toss it aside.

Her breasts bounced and he groaned, mesmerized. His traced the pads of his fingers over the silvery marks along her belly and that led down her hips. His mouth watered. She was right, her body had changed since they last made love. She had carried his son, birthed him and cared for him on her own. He could only imagine what it was like, tending to a newborn, a toddler, alone. He wanted to make it up to her somehow.

He wanted to fall to his knees and worship her. So he did. He laved hot kisses down her chest, stopping to swirl his tongue over both rosy nipples, tugging at one gently until she threaded her fingers through his hair and dragged her nails over his scalp. He bit back a moan, thankful his jeans were still fastened.

“Jemma.” She glanced at him, her eyelids heavy with lust. “Before this goes any further, please keep in mind that I have been cryogenically frozen for the better part of the last seven years.”

She quirked an eyebrow and he watched as the last of her worry evaporated, replaced by a playful glimmer. 

“Well,” she pulled him back up to his feet before reaching for his buckle and the zip of his fly. He groaned as she took him in hand, his head dropping to her shoulder. “I better warm you up.”

 

“I’ve given it some thought.” Fitz didn’t understand how Jemma was awake, let alone managing thoughts. He rather felt like a boneless mass of… bonelessness. Great, brilliant. Two rounds of sex after seven years had apparently rendered his genius status irrelevant. He managed a soft hum and she continued. “I’ll agree to reinstating our one rule but on one condition.”

“Done.”

“You haven’t heard the condition yet.” She continued to draw circles over his chest.

“Jemma, you basically just agreed we are never to leave each other’s sides. Whatever your condition is, it’s moot.”

She pinched his side and ignored him. “I want to even our odds.”

“Hmm, how so?”

“No more field work.” He cracked an eye open and she bit at her lip. “I’d like to continue to teach at the Academy, indefinitely.”

He dropped a kiss to her nose and she relaxed.

“Ah, well. I have a condition to your condition.” He grinned, pulling her on top of him until she straddled his waist. Bringing her left hand to his mouth, he kissed the wedding bands stacked on her finger. His and hers. “Two words: spousal hire.”

Jemma nodded and laughed, looking at him with such joy he couldn’t help but tug her back down. It wasn’t exactly a proposal but more of a recommittment of their love, of their future. He was through with wasting time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next, Jemma copes with finding Fitz.


	6. Simmons, Past

Jemma knew a SHIELD quinjet had landed on campus long before any of her former colleagues showed up during her lecture. A young cadet in the second row had gasped after looking at her phone, elbowing the dozing boy next to her. He perked up immediately. A thread of excited murmurs about a quake weaved across the room and then back to Jemma. It didn’t take checking a social media hashtag to know Daisy Johnson was on the grounds.

Jemma turned her head to the door and waited, her heart racing. The students around her continued to buzz, unaware of the reasons a real-life superhero would be making her way to the science building. Jemma had never discussed her past as a field agent, had never mentioned her husband or their partnership. And after catching a few hushed mentions of “FitzSimmons,” she knew she didn’t need to. They were SHIELD folklore, at this point. Young, brilliant proteges, inseparable, only to then be separated far too often. “It’s dreadfully romantic,” she had heard a starry eyed cadet whisper to his study partner. 

It had been dreadfully romantic, Jemma agreed, but then it was just dreadful. Her worst fear had been a life without him. It was a difficult life, searching for Fitz all of those years, keeping Sam confined to the base. A young boy deserved a childhood full of sunshine and laughter. She didn’t want him to become sullen or bitter. She and Fitz had been so willing to sacrifice themselves to save the world, to keep their descendents from a life underground. Jemma knew that Sam deserved to know the joy of looking up at a sky full of stars, of running barefoot through a grassy field. She would do her best to give him everything he wanted. Except a dog—at least for the time being. A kid needed a pet though, and Fitz would have done something ridiculous like surprise them with a tiny puppy in his jacket pocket. Again, something dreadfully romantic, even if his only intention was to make their son happy. She wished he had the chance. 

But now, maybe… If SHIELD had landed at the Academy without notice, then it could only mean one thing, although Jemma didn’t dare to think it, not after so many years and so many failed attempts. The door to the lecture hall opened and a familiar face—although the blonde hair was relatively new—came into view. Daisy.

Her students’ heightened, excited murmurs fell away. She couldn’t form the words to ask the questions burning to ash in her throat. But then she didn’t need to. With a single nod of her head, Daisy affirmed Jemma’s greatest hope. She bolted up the remaining steps and Daisy grabbed her in a tight hug. 

“Where?”

“Already back at the base.”

Without another word, Jemma turned and made her way to the helipad. They would pick up Sam from school, pack a quick bag, and then… then… The world around her spun ever so slightly, but she kept moving. Fitz was waiting for her. 

Behind her, Daisy ordered someone to gather her belongings. Oh, right, yes. In the rush she had forgotten to grab her mobile or her satchel. —Or to release her students. 

“OK,” Daisy’s business-mode voice echoed behind her, as if she’d read Jemma’s mind. “Class dismissed, probably for awhile, I’m guessing.” 

As she continued to walk down the hall, Jemma pressed her hands to her throat, a smile breaking out of her face. 

xXx

“Sam made this for you ages ago.” Jemma taped their son’s drawing on the wall across from Fitz’s bed, right where he would be able to see when he woke up. Her hands trembled as she smoothed down edges of the picture. Behind her, Enoch moved around the room, checking levels and monitoring machines, well aware she wasn’t speaking for its benefit.

“I have an entire box of drawings he’s made for you over the years. Holiday cards, birthday cards.” Her palms flat against the wall, she took a steadying breath. “You’ve always been a part of his life, Fitz. Right from the start. I made sure of it.” 

She slumped back into the plastic chair next to his bed and reached for his hand, ignoring the pang of guilt at having left him floating out in space, all alone… If only she had tried harder, had searched more, they could have had Fitz back sooner. He could have received those cards and drawings, firsthand. 

“His vitals remain strong.” The Chronicom interrupted the growing silence and Jemma envied Enoch’s calm, assured manner. Of course, it had no reason to be anything but—which was positively annoying.

“Then why isn’t he waking up?”

“Un—”

“Don’t.” It had been seven days. Jemma wasn’t certain what she would do if Fitz didn’t wake up by the ninth day—or tenth, or eleventh. Sob uncontrollably, most likely. With a solemn nod and more understanding than most humans, Enoch exited the room. 

In all of their time apart, in all of her grief, it was the little things she’d missed—like brushing his hair back from his forehead. She ran her fingers over his skin. 

“We’re doing our best to bring you out of this and not—” Her voice caught on the memory of his dissociative break, the way he had turned to her with wide, confused eyes before understanding crashed down. “—To not cause any further injury.” 

Jemma blinked back tears, her eyes swimming as she struggled to focus on the magazine someone had left behind. “...Fitz, if you sleep one more day, I might have to find a dictionary just for my own—”

The door behind her hissed open and Jemma turned, meeting Daisy’s concerned, sad eyes.

“Sam’s looking for you.” 

“Hmm,” she grinned, “he’s probably wanting his tea.” That little boy was so much like his father. 

Daisy tsked. “What is it with the male species and their inability to keep themselves fed? Does that start at birth?”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “I think that’s a gross generalization. I promised I would make his favorite for tonight’s dinner.” 

Daisy moved to stand next the chair, hovering near her shoulder. 

“How’s he doing?” Her voice dropped to a whisper and Jemma stifled a laugh at the absurdity of it. 

“He’s the same as yesterday.” Although, he did seem to have a bit more color in his cheeks. 

“Enoch said he should wake up easier than this.” 

“There are countless variables this time around, Daisy.” Jemma tried to force all of the confidence she could muster into her voice. Afterall, hadn’t she just been frustrated with Enoch over the same thing? But focusing on the science at hand helped regulate her swirling emotions and Daisy didn’t need to know she was being a complete hypocrite. 

“What are you going to tell him when he does wake up?” 

“I’ve been too afraid to think that far ahead.” Her false confidence deflated. How did she tell the man she loved that she gave up on him, again? The man who pulled her out of a hellish blue, sandy universe, or who willingly froze himself to travel to an unsure future just because she and their team needed him? How did she tell him that she had forfeited everything for a quiet life with a home with a back garden where their son could safely play? The rational part of her knew he wouldn’t begrudge her, but with each passing moment, that rational part grew smaller and smaller. 

“You, Jemma Simmons, are facing something unprepared?” Daisy knocked her shoulder against the chair, jostling her from her thoughts.

“Some things you can’t prepare for.”

The silence seemed to grow larger until Daisy chuckled. What could possibly be funny?

“I know it isn’t scientifically sound, but have you tried the Disney cure?” Jemma caught Daisy’s teasing wink, and while she suspected she knew the answer, she asked anyway.

“What’s the Disney cure?”

“True love’s kiss, obviously.” A bolt of longing zapped through Jemma. He did look like a sweet Prince Charming, but those stories were dubious at best when it came to consent. She would never do that to Fitz, although...

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

“But?”

“It hardly seems fair, given the circumstances.”

“What sort of circumstances?” Daisy frowned and Jemma only shrugged. She didn’t want to say it. Daisy had been there during her many breakdowns, she had witnessed the terrible cycle of hope and disappointment. And while she knew her friend didn’t hold her leaving against her, Jemma did that enough for the both of them. Daisy scoffed. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I have a fair bit to account for.” 

“Sure, but he’ll understand. With time. You were friends before anything else.” A memory flashed through her mind of a shy and grumpy sixteen year old boy, lanky with a head of unruly curls, scowling at her as she argued the finer points of dielectric polarization. If only she had known then that the boy doing his best to run from her would do everything he could to never leave her side, no matter what cruel tricks the universe would play.

Jemma stifled her cry with the press of her fingers. “He’ll say we’re cursed. And the worst part is, he has a sizeable data set to back him up.” 

“Never—never gonna let me forget that, huh?” 

The sound of his voice, scratchy from lack of use but so very Fitz, was enough to knock the air from Jemma’s lungs. He blinked at her with bleary but strikingly blue eyes and the corner of his mouth ticked up in a small half smile. It was a moment Jemma had imagined a hundred times, had longed for to the point of desperation. It didn’t feel real, but it was—he was here and whole. She couldn’t hold back her sob this time, but before he noticed, she jumped to her feet and ran her hands over him, checking his pulse, focusing on the the readouts on his monitors. He was watching her closely, eyes bright with wonder. Oh, she had missed this so much—just being near him. 

He licked his lips. “You cut your hair.”

Suddenly self-conscious, she brushed back her fringe with a laugh before reaching for him. 

“I did do that, yes.” 

But before she could speak, confusion flickered over his face and he reached for her hand. Dread dropped like a lead balloon in her gut.

“How—when—?” He pressed his thumb against the wedding set on her left ring finger—his and hers. The gold band was slightly larger but Jemma had worn it regardless, wanting to keep it where it would be safe, close to her heartline. She hadn’t thought how it would look to him now, waking to find her wearing the wedding band of another man. 

“Fitz—” 

How had she not realized he would think the worst? Before she could find the words to gently explain, he leaned away from her, scanning the room. She couldn’t imagine what he was thinking, what the future looked liked to him. He grabbed for the magazine Jemma had dropped and shook it until he could read the date on the cover. Jemma nearly cried when Fitz gasped. 

Behind Daisy, the door opened and he looked behind her, focusing on the movement. 

“Mum, I’ve been waiting for you for ages—” 

Jemma turned, catching sight of her son just as he stopped and hid his face against Daisy’s hip. In that moment, he reminded Jemma of Fitz so much she almost laughed. She reached for him and pulled him onto her lap. 

“It’s okay, Samuel.” 

His face buried against Jemma’s neck, he studied Fitz with one eye. In turn, Fitz studied the little boy, and Jemma let him process the evidence before him. She saw the moment he landed on Sam’s drawing: a spaceship traveling through a galaxy, circling a planet, drawn back before Hunter had found Enoch. Up close, it was easy to see the sleeping Fitz tucked safely behind a window but Sam had still insisted on labeling the figure. “Da.” It was a sweet touch to a lovely drawing and Sam had been so excited to share it with her, and now with Fitz.

Sam shifted on her lap and Fitz blinked, his gaze flicking between her and their son.

“Fitz? Please—let me—” She wiped at her eye and Fitz followed her hand, the rings catching his attention. She hugged Sam closer. She had no idea how to tell him of the life he had nearly lived, of the time he had missed. Of how she had given up hope of ever finding him. She pushed aside the terror, the fear that he would never forgive her for giving up. He was here now; with time, there was little they couldn’t get through. She hoped. 

He was watching her with caution and it nearly broke her heart. Oh, how she loved this man. She held onto that feeling and her panic began to melt away—for the time being, at least. 

She smiled. “Fitz, I have so much to tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, the epilogue.


	7. FitzSimmons, Future

“Sam!” Fitz shouted up the stairs for his son and then winced, glancing cautiously at the sleeping bundle tucked against his chest. The baby snuffled but stayed asleep, no doubt lulled by her father’s gentle swaying. It also helped she had her mother’s sleeping habits and was able to doze through nearly anything—as long as Fitz was near. 

Sam appeared at the top of the stairs, dragging his rucksack, his brow furrowed. 

“You’re not supposed to yell.”

“Yes, I know.” Fitz continued to sway. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’ll wake Rosie.” Sam had been grumpy all morning, refusing to take any sort of nap because he was seven (nearly eight) and seven year olds _didn’t need naps_. Normally, Fitz would agree, but Sam had stayed up late, camping out in the back garden to watch the meteor shower. By some stroke of bizarre luck, he had managed to wake up at his normal time. Unlike Rosie, it seemed Sam took after his father’s restless sleeping habits.

“You’re absolutely right, Sammy. I shouldn’t yell.” Fitz patted the baby’s bum. “But we need to leave soon if we’re going to meet your mum for lunch.” 

That was all the incentive he needed before slinging his bag over his shoulder as he bolted down the steps. Within a matter of minutes, Fitz, Sam, and Rosie were loaded into the SUV and on the highway, making their way to the Academy. Jemma had only returned from maternity leave three days ago but was keeping her schedule light. It was important to them that their little family spend as much time together as they could—especially while the kids were young. 

Fitz parked in Jemma’s faculty spot. She had taken a car service that morning, leaving him with their only vehicle. They were, he thought with a cheery grin, so very domestic. He’d never felt more content.

Despite his initial intent to return to academia, Fitz had turned down a prime position at the Academy in favor of staying at home with his children. He loved it—every day was a new adventure. Just yesterday he had dismantled and repaired the dishwasher after an unfortunate incident with a bottle of soda. Now the machine ran more efficiently—and at a much lower hum. 

When he wasn’t repairing appliances, he homeschooled Sam, cuddled Rosie, and read up on all of the advancements he’d missed (mobile screens implanted directly into the retina seemed a bit dystopian, but Fitz was content to stay far away from such technology). Nothing could ruin the happiness he and Jemma had found. 

A bell rang, signaling class change and he checked his watch. It was a quarter after eleven and Jemma was most likely in a now empty lecture hall, gathering and organizing her notes.

Rounding the corner, Fitz stopped suddenly. Jemma wasn’t in the lecture hall after all. Instead, she was hugging some strange man in the corridor. More importantly, this strange man was hugging her back—he was practically lifting her off her feet. An irrational flicker of jealousy traveled down Fitz’s spine as Jemma laughed, dropping back to her feet. She stepped back, gripping the man’s shoulders. 

Then, Jemma spotted him over the man’s shoulder and her smile grew. 

“Fitz!” She called out, radiating happiness. “This is—” 

But she didn’t need to finish her introduction. The man turned, and Fitz knew—he’d never met the man before, not in this life, but still he knew. 

“Deke.”

“Yeah, I’m…Um. Na—Jemma was just catching me up.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder before sizing Fitz up, no doubt comparing him to the man he’d first met. He was used to it. Then, Deke shrugged. “Seems I missed a lot in the last few years.” 

“Join the club.” Overwhelmed, the careless retort fell off his tongue and he winced, but Jemma only rolled her eyes good-naturedly before taking Rosie from his arms.

“Hey,” Deke turned his attention to Sam. “You’re my uncle, how cool is that?”

Sam squinted. “It’s highly improbable.” 

“I get that a lot.” Deke held out a hand and, with a giggle, Sam cracked his palm down for a friendly low-five. “Ow! Nice one!”

Sam seemed to have taken an instant shine to his… nephew? Fitz blinked; years ago he would have found the entire situation beyond surreal, but now he knew anything was possible. He caught Jemma’s eye over Deke’s shoulder and she smiled, her eyes warm and bright. Then, with a decisive nod of her head, she turned. 

“C’mon, we’re supposed to be having a picnic.” 

“A picnic?” Deke paled. “Like, outside—on a blanket, in the grass?” 

“That’s the general idea.” He eyed his grandson like he was an alien, which, Fitz supposed he was, in a way. Or maybe an anomaly; he knew what that was like.

“I don’t really like grass.” 

“It’s not so bad. There’s a swing and a slide,” Sam offered before skipping ahead to help his mum. 

“Sounds terrifying,” Deke muttered mostly to himself but followed them through the double doors, to the recreational field behind the main building.

“Tell you what,” Fitz clapped him on the back. “Sam packed a football in his rucksack. We can kick it around, later.” 

“Even I know you can’t really kick a football around.”

“What—no. Fine, a soccer ball.” He dragged a hand down his face. “You’re technically half British, you should know what I mean when I say—not only that, how long have you been on this planet—?”

“Yeah, okay, fine.” Deke grinned and Fitz had the sudden suspicion his grandson had been aiming for just that sort of reaction. “I’d like that.”

With a joyful grin, Deke peeled off and followed after Sam, reminding Fitz of an exuberant but attentive puppy.

Jemma, meanwhile, stopped under the shade of a tall oak tree. Without a word, he spread out the blanket and helped her sit, careful to not jostle a still sleeping Rosie. 

He tucked himself behind her, and she leaned back against him, watching their son and grandson take turns going down the slide. Fitz was amazed at how quickly they had taken to each other. But, Sam was like Jemma in that way—able to see the good in people and make friends.

He turned his head a fraction of an inch and pressed his mouth to her temple. 

“I can hear you thinking.” 

“Processing,” he teased.

“Hmm. Well then, what are you processing?” Rosie whimpered in her arms and Jemma hummed a soothing tune. 

“This isn’t the life I expected to have.” She tensed in his arms but he continued. “It’s the life I wanted.” Again, he kissed her cheek, his arms resting around her waist, adding more support under Rosie. “Married to my best friend. Children. _Grandchildren_. But it isn’t the life I expected I’d have. I never dreamed.” 

She tilted her head back, seeking out a kiss, and Fitz was all too happy to oblige. Breaking away ever so slightly, she looked up at him and he took the opportunity to drop a kiss to the tip of her nose. 

“Well,” she paused and contentment seemed to radiate off of her, “it’s all I ever wanted.” 

Then, she settled back into his arms and, together, they watched their family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who followed along with this story! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3 I would love to hear what you thought!


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